


It hurts (to breathe)

by Diamond_Mind



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Cyrus has asthma, Dad Influence, Don't copy to another site, I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE IT, I wanna say canon, I wrote this after a sorta similar experience, It's like soups short, M/M, Medical Procedures, My First Work in This Fandom, Other, Partie deux is up, Please read with caution, Severe Asthma Attacks, So I Ran With It, Triggers, and now Cyrus has asthma, cause it's mentioned, he says he uses an inhaler, hope I do this justice, i really don't know what to tag, in season 1 episode 7, losing consciousness, my headcanon canon, possible triggers, so I am assuming he has some type of asthma, sorry - Freeform, this gets pretty depressing, warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 16:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16957287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diamond_Mind/pseuds/Diamond_Mind
Summary: Cyrus has a severe asthma attack. Scaring the people he loves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea Sunday (9th of Dec.) night after a scare and immediately began writing this in my notes and then spent the next few days editing it. Hope you guys like it.
> 
> P.S. All mistakes are mine.

It happens all too fast.

His breathing begins to stutter.

A heaviness settles on his chest.

His airways begin to constrain.

A fuzzy, itchy feeling begins in his chest spreading to his shoulders and up into his throat and chin.

He feels like sneezing, but he can’t breathe.

Panic settles in.

Tears spring to his eyes.

His hands shoot to his throat, scratching at it as he takes in coughing breathes.

He claws at the collar of his nightshirt, feeling it choke him.

Angry, red scratches mark his neck as he struggles to inhale.

He can feel his chest falter as he desperately tries to breathe.

The panic grows.

He can’t breathe.

Can anyone hear him?

_They’re all sleeping._

Is he going to die?

_Probably, but it doesn’t matter._

Should he try to call out?

_No, it’s been worse before… Right?_

Tears are streaming freely down his face in terror.

His coughing only worsening to choked off breathes and sobs.

He feels anxiety settling in his chest the more he tries to fight for air.

It’s taking up too much space.

His clawing becomes desperate.

His nails manage to draw blood from the delicate skin of his throat.

Through all the panic and confusion he hears hurried stomping and then a loud bang.

He wants to turn his head, but he knows if he does it’ll only worsen.

He lets out a choked off sob of half relied half panic when he feels a big, warm hand on his back sitting him up.

Another settles on his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat.

“-ron, call-hospital! Cyrus, -ear me?!”

He tries shaking his head.

A sharp pain stabs his chest.

Another choked off gasp for air.

He can barely make out what is going on around him.

His sights blurred from all the tears, his hearing muffled by the pounding of his heartbeat.

The hand on his chest moves to grab at both his hands still clawing at his neck.

Holding them firmly, but gently, to keep him from further harming himself.

“Shh, my boy…” He hears near his ear in a gentle lull as he is carefully engulfed in a warm hug.

His arms immediately wrap themselves around his father's neck.

He feels cold.

His father carefully tries to pull away, but he tightens his arms around him in response.

Big mistake.

Another stabbing pain and a painful gasp of air.

“ _Chaim sheli_ , let go…”

His father again tries to pull away and this time he lets him.

He feels his chest tightening painfully as he desperately tries to fill his lungs with air.

Something is pushed past his parted lips and in a panic, he flails back.

“No, shh… -eathe.” He hears as something is puffed into his mouth.

He tries.

Boy does he try, but it hurts.

He chokes on his air and quickly dissolves into another painful coughing fit.

There is more frantic, muffled words and then he is being scooped up into his father's arms like he weighed less than a pillow.

The world around him blurs together as the tears continue to stream and the coughing and gasping for air worsens.

He vaguely registers the cold world outside as they exit the house and then they’re in one of the cars speeding down the mostly empty streets on their way to the hospital.

All the while his father keeps him in his arms.

Trying to hopelessly calm him down.

The car stops abruptly, another painful gasp for air leaves his mouth.

He begins to claw again at his neck, gasping for air.

He’s placed on a hospital bed, immediately curling in on himself pulling at his collar again.

There is frantic talking around him, but he can’t make any of it out.

He’s trying so hard to concentrate on breathing.

They’re hurrying him along a brightly lit hallway and then through some double doors.

His breathing stutters painfully, halfway.

He feels his shirt being pulled off his body.

A choked off gasp leaves him and he begins scratching at his now exposed chest in search of relief.

His blunt nails leaving several vicious-looking marks all over his bare chest.

His arms are forcefully pulled away from his chest and he thrashes in desperation.

Hands begin prodding his body and soon he faintly hears a frantic beeping.

The coughing fit begins again.

His heartbeat and choking sobs are all he can hear.

Bright lights and shaky, dark figures are all he can see looming over him.

A desperate gasp for air.

Darkness begins creeping in from the corners of his eyes.

The beeping becomes frenzied.

He feels a cold warmth enveloping his body.

It’s almost soothing.

The stabbing in his chest with each half breath he takes dulling as he slowly begins losing consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyrus wakes up and things are explained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took so long to post. I do hope it was worth the wait.
> 
> I am no medical professional so I have to thank [er-cryptid](https://www.er-cryptid.com/) for his [Treatment of Asthma](https://www.er-cryptid.com/post/182513968296/treatment-of-asthma) post. It was very helpful.

His eyes blink open.

A suspended ceiling greets him.

His eyebrows furrow.

_He didn’t have a suspended ceiling…did he?_

His mind then registers the rhythmic beeping coming from his side and the oxygen mask strapped onto his face.

The beeping grows frantic.

His breathing picks up.

He feels something squeeze his right hand and whips his head to the side.

His dad is sitting next to him, holding his hand, a worried expression creasing his features.

“ _Chaim sheli_ , breathe,” His father says in a soothing voice, looking into his eyes.

He nods and begins breathing along with his father, slowly and deeply until his breathing evens out and his heartbeat has calmed down

“W-what h-ha-happened?” He asks, his voice coming out strained and hoarse, slightly muffled from the mask.

His father’s face softens, “You had a severe asthma attack…” He trails off as his eyes lower from his son’s face.

“You, uh…” His father squeezes his hand tightly. “You stopped breathing...and that’s when they separated us,” His voice was thick with emotion, eyes shiny with unshed tears.

He felt hot, heavy tears pool in his eyes as he looked at the pained expression on his father’s face.

“I-I’m so sorry, Papa,” He whimpered.

“No no no,” His father soothes. “It’s not your fault, you fought so bravely and you won, you’re here with us. This isn’t something we can control, but it is something we can live with, _Chaim sheli_.” He runs a hand through his son’s hair lovingly.

Cyrus noddesshakily, trying hard to keep the tears at bay.

“It’s okay to cry, my son. You did good,” Norman praises his son gently, softly caressing his son's cheek with a warm, rough hand.

As if waiting for permission Cyrus begins full out sobbing, squeezing his father’s hand.

And once his sobs turned to sniffles, Norman calls the doctor in.

The doctor comes in a few minutes later, dressed in a white button up with a purple tie and a white coat. His hair was in a neat pompadour. “Good afternoon, Cyrus, I am your doctor, Dr. Fischbach.” He pointes to his name tag with a smile.

He lookes down at his clipboard quickly before examining him with soft brown eyes. “I assume your father told you what happened.”

Cyrus nods his head, “Sorta,” He rasps out.

Dr. Fischbach smiles, “Alright, then I’ll explain it in more medical terms.”

Cyrus nods, giving his father’s hand a quick squeeze.

“You had a severe asthma attack from exposure to a strong scent or odor that aggravated your airways, hence why you woke up in the middle of the night,” He explaines carefully looking through the papers on his clipboard. “During the past few days, before your attack, have you been feeling short of breath or tickling in your airways?” He looks at him from over his papers.

Realization hits Cyrus. “Y-yes,” He answers carefully.

Dr. Fischbach nods. “Usually, those signs in people don’t mean much, but in asthma patients, it can be serious so if you ever feel like that again, don’t hesitate to tell your parents and come to the hospital, alright?”

Cyrus nods, again.

“Okay, now onto the nitty-gritty. You did lapse into cardiac arrest and were gone for three minutes, but we managed to get you back. You are completely fine, luckily no brain damage whatsoever. Though, you were out for two days.”

Cyrus’ eyes widen.

Dr. Fischbach smiled gently. “We’ve been treating you with beta2-agonist bronchodilators and put you on an aminophylline drip.” He gestured to Cyrus’ left arm. “And supplemental oxygen to help stabilize you and relax your airways to prevent another relapse. We also treated and wrapped the scratches on your neck and chest to prevent infection, a nurse will come in once every morning to change your bandages, there should be little to no scarring. Your throat is raw from the coughing and your voice hoarse, but it should be all better in a few days, we’ll bring you some soothing teas,but try not to use it as much unless you have to.

“You’re meals will be small and frequent with food high in calories and protein.” He flipped through the papers on his clipboard before stopping at a page and examining it. “All in all you should be fine and ready to leave in two days after we’re sure you can breathe on your own without relapse and given you new medication. Do you have any questions?” Dr. Fischbach finished glancing back up at them with a questioning expression.

“T-two da-days?” Cyrus manages out, scared.

“Yes, but don’t worry about it, you’re safe and need the rest after what you went through,” He reassures.

“New pres-prescription? What’s wro-wrong with it n-now?” Cyrus askes unevenly, the oxygen being pumped into him making it hard to form words.

“Yes, we believe your old medication isn’t enough to stabilize you during another attack. But don’t worry it won’t be anything too strong.” Dr. Fischbach turnes back to his clipboard, scanning a few pages. “For some asthma patients, it is necessary to change medication depending on their condition or age. You were prescribed your current medication when you were six, you are now thirteen, and I don't mean to sound alarming, but your condition has definitely changed based off your last bout.”

“Oh,” He breathes looking away.

“Any more questions?” Dr. Fischbach asks one last time.

Norman shakes his head, “No, thank you so much, Dr. Fischbach.”

“You’re welcome. If anything changes just press the call button and a nurse, if I am unavailable, will come to assist you.” He noddes towards the button panel on one side of the bed. “Now, if you’ll please excuse me.” He gives them a small smile and wave as he exits the room.

The room was silent, except for the steady beeping of his heart monitor and faint humming of the oxygen machine.

“Where’s mom an-” He takesk a deep breathe, “And Shar-ron?” Cyrus looks up at his father’s face.

“I sent your mother and Todd home last night, she really needed the rest.” Norman sighes deeply. “She refused to sleep until you woke up. Sharon went home yesterday to clear out and get rid of anything that might aggravate you,” He explaines.

“Speaking of, I’m gonna call them and tell them you’ve woken up, okay?” Cyrus nods his head, watching as his father pull out his phone and step out of the room.

-

He feels numb.

He could taste the metallic, bitterness of the medication being pumped into his airways every time he inhales, on the back of his throat.

His hand reaches up to feel at the gauze wrapped securely, but carefully around his neck.

He pulls at the collar of his baby blue hospital gown and looks down.

His chest was wrapped, too.

He feels the tears pooling, again.

_Why did it have to be like this?_

_Why couldn’t he have just been born normal?_

_He_ did this,

He clenches his fists tightly, ignoring the dull sting of his nails digging into the sensitive skin of his palms.

It was all _his_ fault.

He was responsible for this.

He hears the door to the room open and his dad entering.

A rough hand envelopes his clenched fist.

“ _Chaim sheli_ , relax you’re gonna be okay,” His dad soothes.

He inhales deeply, the medication rushing through his system, and unclenches his fists, holding onto his father's hand.

“Your mother and Todd are on their way, Sharon, too. They’re happy you’re awake so be prepared for them to coddle you.” His father chuckles slightly.

Sharon arrives first and immediately rushes to hug him, being careful not to disturb his mask, apologizing to him.

“I am so sorry, _Hamud_! I should have been more careful when buying new air fresheners!” She cries into his shoulder. “You almost died because of me!”

Hearing her cry and apologize to him made him feel terrible. He was the reason she was blaming herself. She hadn’t done anything wrong. All she had wanted to do was get new air fresheners and his stupid asthma had decided it didn’t like them and almost killed him.

He felt choked up as he tried hugging her back with one arm, trying to desperately reassure her that it was not her fault, she hadn’t known they would affect him this bad. He was to blame. They were his stupid lungs.

She pulls back kissing his forehead, “I’m sorry, I’m not supposed to put you in a state of stress, but I am just so sorry, _Hamud_.”

“Do-don’t wor-ry about it, Sha-sha,” He replies hoarsely. “We didn’t know…” He inhales sharply.

“What’s wrong, _Hamud_?!” Sharon askes urgently, his dad’s head whipping to him, they look ready to take immediate action if he so feels uncomfortable.

He shakes his head, “No-nothing, I jus-just...the scratches sting.” He thumbs at the bandages wrapped around his throat, turning away from them.

“Oh, do want me to call a nurse so they can change them?” His father asks, already making his way to the door.

He was about to shake his head when another sting shot through his chest and then an itching sensation and he quickly nods. His dad looks to Sharon before walking out.

“I know, you’re not okay, but how are you feeling?” She sniffles, taking the seat his father previously occupied.

He swallows, almost gagging at the bitter taste of the medication, turning his head to look at her. “Tired,” He breathes out. She smiles sadly at him, reaching for his hand taking it in her’s, “I know.”

Norman comes in at that moment, bringing with him, Leslie and Todd.

The moment his mom sets eyes on him in the hospital bed awake and hooked up to so many machines with an oxygen mask strapped on she's reminded of him as a baby, kept in an incubator, away from her and the tears flow down her face, “My baby boy!” She cries rushing to his side, Sharon quickly pulls her hand away just as his mother engulfs him in a hug.

“Not too tight, Leslie, you don’t want to hurt the boy,” Todd reprimands her lightly walking up behind her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Right right, sorry, my love.” She pulls away, giving him a watery smile. Todd smiles warmly at him, ruffling his hair. “Are… Are you feeling any better?” His mother asks him, concern thickening her voice.

He gives a slight nod, “A bit.” He rubs at his chest, the itching becoming more insistent.

His father sees, speaking up, “The nurse said she’d be here in a bit to change your bandages.”

He gives a small nod.

“His bandages?” His mother asks, turning to her ex-husband.

“Yeah, his scratches are stinging so it’s best to change them,” Sharon speaks up.

His mom gets this look of worry, turning to look back at him, “Sorry, love,” She apologizes.

“It’s ok-kay,” He struggles out, his throat stinging from use.

The nurse comes in a while later, rolling along a mayo stand holding a box of gloves, a roll of bandages, wipes, and ointment. She smiles at them, “Good evening, I’m your nurse for the evening, Lola, I’m assuming you’re all the parents, right?”

A round of “Yes’” goes around as the nurse makese her way over to the left side of his bed, “Okay.” Lola nods. “Now, I’m just gonna clean your abrasions and change the bandages, alright?” She asks him gently.

He gives a small nod, she smiles at him, “Okay, now if I can just have you sit at the edge of the bed so we can get started or would you prefer to stay put?”

He shakes his head flipping the blanket off his lap, giving an involuntary shiver as the cool air hit his exposed legs. She moves to the side as he scooches over to the edge of the bed. Once his legs are dangling off the bed she goes to stand in front of him wheeling the stand closer.

She pulls on a pair of blue gloves and reaches around his neck untying the first bowknot, carefully pulling the gown off his shoulders, being mindful not to disturb the tube attached to his mask. She helps him take his arms out without jostling the I.V. drip in his vein.

Once the upper half of his gown rests in his lap she proceeds to carefully peel the bandages from his chest, “Do they itch or sting?” She asks carefully.

“Bo-both,” He croaks.

“Alright,” She said, unwinding the last of his chest bandages. “Ooh, okay. I don’t think your bandages have been changed…”Lola trails off, staring at his chest a slight grimace twisting her face.

He swallows loudly and hesitantly lowered his head, wary of what he would see.

Long, irregular, red scratches mar the tender skin of his chest, slightly raised, surrounded by angry, red skin.

He feels bile rise in his throat the longer he looks.

His heart was picking up, the beeping becoming frenzied.

Shuddering breaths leave him as he tries to calm himself.

His hands tremble as they begin to rise, intent on touching them.

“No no!” Lola grabs at his hands. “Don’t touch them, they’ll only get worse.”

His mother rushes over to him, “Cyrus, you need to calm down so Lola can clean them, then it’ll all be over okay?”

He hurriedly nods his head, trying to calm down.

Lola lets go of his hands and he immediately clenches on to the bed sheets, desperate to keep them occupied.

Her hands go to his neck and slowly unwinds the bandages there, being careful when she got to the last wind.

He grimaces feeling the bandage being peeled away slowly, the scratches stinging at being exposed.

“Okay, now I’m just gonna wipe them down with some disinfectant and then slather them with ointment before finally wrapping them,” She informs them, grabbing some cotton and dousing it with disinfectant and carefully wiping his chest and neck.

The sting of the disinfectant lessens the more she dabs at his skin, soon it’s all clean and she gently applies the ointment is a nice, soothing layer before wrapping the bandages with nimble hands.

She helps him pull his gown back on and situate himself back on the bed under the blanket.

“Thank you. Dr. Fischbach has already put in an order with the kitchen so they should be arriving within the hour, okay?”

He nods carefully watching her leave.

As soon as the door closes he feels the tears brimming.

His breathing picks up alerting all four of his parents.

“ _Chaim sheli_ , breathe, you are here. You are okay,” His father soothes, approaching the bed.

“A-am I? I al-almost died, papa,” He rasps out, a lump forming in his throat. “How am I sus-supposed to be o-okay?”

“You are here, my son. You have family that loves you and cares for you.” His father gestures around the room to the rest of his parents. “And friends that love and care for you just as much.”

His head whips to his father a panicked look taking over his features, “Andi and Buffy know?!”

All four of his parents are quick to shake their heads, but it’s too late.

-

He begins to hyperventilate.

The air leaves him despite the mask.

The more he exhales the more air he feels pumped into his airways.

An unhinged beeping registers in his brain.

He looks for it.

The world begins to blur around the edges.

The tears stream.

His fingertips tingle.

He’s drowning on air.

In desperation, he pulls at the mask.

Insistent, fragmented voices register.

“-rus! Don-”

“Ca- the nur-”

“I’ll-”

“Cy- can -ear me?”

He feels something grab his hand.

He pulls his hand away and immediately an agonizing pain shoots up his arm.

His spinning eyesight catches red.

It’s gushing down his arm in tune with the irregular beeping.

With gasping inhales he tries to reach for his arm.

A dull bang tears his eyes away from his bleeding arm.

Blurry figures head straight to him.

In fear he scrambles away, falling off the bed and into a corner.

Choked sobs leave his lungs the more air he tries to take in.

Figures crowd him.

He can’t breathe.

They reach for him.

He pushes them away, staining them crimson.

More fragmented voices.

“-areful!”

A pained gasp leaves him.

“Hold-down!”

He screams.

They pin him down.

“Stop! He-”

Firm pressure on his arm draws his attention from the voices.

Something is pressing against his arm.

“Sedat-”

“No!”

Trembling and heaving he turns when he feels them pin his other arm.

He tries pulling away.

A painful gasp leaves him.

“STO-”

A tiny, pinprick sensation shoots up his arm.

More tears stream down the sides of his face.

A calm shushing is the only thing he hears.

With stuttering breathes the world slowly fades. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third part will hopefully be out soon, sorry. It will definitely have Tyrus, but I don't wanna give too much away.
> 
> If you have any suggestions or questions or just wanna tell me what you like please leave a comment, I love those (a lot). Kudos are greatly appreciated as well. 
> 
> Thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyrus goes home and the past is brought up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I know it has been a long while since I have updated and I am sincerely sorry for that! There was a lot going on in my life from familial problems to school and then my laptop decided to quit and I had to get it repaired. The chapter had been halfway finished when everything went wrong and I just finished it a couple of days ago and I now have the time to post it, but since everything has seemed to have calmed down, for now, updates should be pretty regular. If you made it this far thank you so much and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

It was the day after his outburst and four days since his initial attack.

He woke up disoriented. 

Everything hazy.

He could feel the oxygen mask back in place over his nose and mouth, pumping him with medicated air.

Blinking away his haze, his eyes roam the ceiling before drifting down and wandering around the room.

His parents are asleep, his mother and Todd on a small sofa while his father and Sharon sleep on two small recliners.

He doesn’t want to wake them so he lays quietly, listening to the steady beeping of his heart, catching glimpses of the outside world through the blinds.

Watching the sky turn from a pale lavender to a glowing peach with streaks of pink.

_It must look beautiful._

He shifts a bit immediately stiffening when a dull pain runs up his left arm.

Looking he sees bandages wrapped securely around the bend of his arm, the I.V. now in his right arm.

He doesn’t know how to feel.

A flurry of emotions fight in him.

Fear.

_He almost died._

Anger.

_He was the cause of all this._

Loneliness.

_No one could ever understand how he felt._

And at the forefront of it all.

Sadness.

_He didn’t want this life._

The tears gathered, he didn’t have the strength to hold them back and they fell, gliding smoothly down the sides of his face.

-

A hollow nothingness settles in his chest as he numbly watches the world around him.

He was finally allowed to return home after four days. 

The first two were spent the same, in bed with the mask being monitored every two hours for any changes, and every morning his bandages were changed. 

The third day, they removed the mask to see if he could handle breathing on his own and checked on his scratches, that had mostly healed into smoothe, faint lines. They had him get out of bed and walk around to re-adjust his muscles. His legs had given out from under him the first time he had stood up. He was able to catch himself with his hands, but his knees were stinging from the impact. His parents had rushed to his side to help him up, but it was his nurse, Lola, who helped him up. Clutching the drip stand he hobbled over to the door and exited the room, Lola at his side explaining that if any pain appeared to tell her immediately and if he got tired he could stop and rest, his parents trailing after them, worry creasing their faces as they watched him. 

On the fourth day, Dr. Fischbach told him he was stable enough to return home the next day. 

_Stable._

He hated that word.

It made him feel abnormal.

Like he wasn’t a person.

Like he was the cause of all-

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard his parents thanking Dr. Fischbach and the nurses.

He quickly thanked them and gave them a small smile as his mother pushed the wheelchair forward and out the automatic doors to the car waiting just outside with the Valet holding out the keys to his father.

His father helps him into the car, making sure he’s buckled in before kissing his forehead and walking to the drivers' side. 

His mother and Todd both kiss his head and tell him they’ll see him at his father's house, he nods his acknowledgment and they part ways to their car.

The car ride is quiet, Sharon tries making small talk, but once she notices he rather stare out the window in silence she stops trying to include him and proceeds to only make conversation with his father.

-

They arrive home after a quick detour to the pharmacy to pick up his new prescription. 

Five inhalers. Two for him, one for his person and the other to be kept at his bedside, one to each set of his parents just in case, and one to give to the school nurse when he goes back to school.

He comes down the stairs, having put the inhaler away at his bedside, to find all four of his parents sitting in the living room waiting for him.

“Cyrus, can you come here for a moment, please?” His mother calls to him.

He swallows hard, his hand reaching into the pocket of his khaki shorts to grip at the inhaler there. 

He can feel his heart picking up speed in anticipation and he desperately tries to calm it down with deep breaths as he makes his way over to the living room and sits down on the recliner facing his parents.

He can hear his heart in his ears and he grips the inhaler tighter.

His parents notice and slowly begin breathing deeply with him, their arms moving up with each inhale and down with each exhale.

It takes a while, but his breathing finally even out.

“Better?” Todd asks him gently, with a smile.

He nods trying to return the smile, but he’s pretty sure it comes out as a grimace from the way his parents share an amused smile.

They sit in relative silence until his mother takes the initiative, “Cyrus, honey, we know you would rather not talk about it right now, but it is of the utmost importance that we do and not let this stew.”

He nods, “I...I know.”

“It’s for the best, Cy. We need to get all of our feelings out or else we’ll rot from the inside,” Todd says.

Sometimes, Cyrus hates that all four of his parents are psychiatrists. This is one of those times.

“Now, what happened late Thursday night was unexpected, we thought you were getting better, you haven’t had an attack like this since you were six and even then it wasn’t as bad as this one,” His father starts, looking at him with worry in his eyes.

He remembers that day when he was six, it was a painful memory.

It had been his first brush to just how serious his asthma was and ever since then he’d been careful with how much he exerted himself, learning his limits. 

_-He’d been at the park with his parents, playing tag with some of the other kids. His mother was sitting on one of the nearby benches with a book in her hand, taking occasional glances his way to make sure he was alright, his father was getting them some popsicles to combat the hot weather._

_He had just been tagged by one of the kids and immediately all the kids began running away from him in laughter calling out behind them “Na-na! You can’t catch me!”_

_He excitedly ran after them, his breathing picking up as he speeds up, his smile growing larger as he began catching up to one of the girls. “I’m gonna get you!” he laughed out._

_Then the girl began blurring in and out of focus with each heavy breath he took. His knees buckling and steps faltering before his legs finally gave out as he crumbled to his knees, tiny hands reaching for his throat._

_Heartbeats irregular, breathing stutters._

_Body tingles from lack of oxygen._

_He tries to call out, only for it come out broken and breathy, “Mo-hm!”_

_It’s not long before his upper half collides with the grassy floor, his eyesight swimming as he tries to catch his breathing._

_He hears muffled screaming and then, “CYRUS!”_

_His mother comes running over, her book lying forgotten somewhere on the grass. She picks him up cradling him in her lap, keeping his arms away from his neck. “Cyrus-baby, breathe, please,” She cries, tears spilling._

_He tries._

_‘NORMAN!” She calls for his father, terrified._

_People gather around them, some already pulling out their phones and calling for an ambulance._

_His father breaks through the crowd, “Hi-his inhaler! Wher-where is it? Please, Norman!” She pleads, as he pulls out a baby blue inhaler from his pocket and presses it into his son's mouth, who quickly flails around at the intruding mouth-piece, but his mom steadies him, “Breath, baby, please. I am begging you," She sobs._

_His father presses down and the medication fills his mouth. He’s reduced to a coughing mess as his body rejects the medication._

_“What’s wrong? The doctor said the medication should calm him down!” Leslie looks to her husband in a panic, “Why isn’t it working?!”_

_“I-I don’t know,” Norman exhales shakily, his eyes watering as he stares at his writhing son, choking on his breathing. “His-his body is rejecting the medication, we have to get to a hospital!” He looks around._

_“Ones already on its way,” A blonde lady from the crowd speaks up, “My husband called as soon as your son fell.” She puts her hand on the shoulder of the man next to her, holding a young boy in his arms._

_“Th-thank you.”-_

Cyrus shakes his head to disperse the memory, running his finger over the inhaler in his shorts as a reassurance that it’s still there.

“And every other check-up you had after that the doctors kept saying you were steadily improving. There was no indication that you would backtrack,” His mother continues.

He nodded, afraid to look his mother in the eye, afraid of what he might see in them.

“And Cyrus, I know I haven’t been in your life for that long, but I care about you as if you were my own and I’m sure Todd feels the same way. You’re important to all of us,” Sharon speaks up, her voice carrying so much love it made his eyes glisten.

“We also never ever want you to think that you are a burden on us because you are not and you will never be as long as we have you we can live with this and handle it to the best of our abilities because that is what love is and we love you most of all,” Todd says voice thick with emotion as he grips onto Leslie’s hand.

Cyrus blinks rapidly trying to will the tears away. “Wha-what if I don’t wanna li-live with this? Every t-t-time I get an-an attack, eh-every hur-hurried b-br-breath I take I-I-I wonder if it’s gon-gonna be m-my last, because I ne-never know if I got t-t-to my inhaler too late or-or if I even ha-have it on my person, or if it’ll even w-work,” His voice was thick with emotion, tears overflowing, gliding down blotchy cheeks in streams, his fingers wrapping themselves tightly around his inhaler pulling it out from his pocket, just in case. 

“Cyrus!” His mother gasps, a hand flying to her mouth, tears slowly making their way down her face. “How could you say something like that!?”

Cyrus glares down at the blue inhaler in his lap, not bothering to wipe his tears.

“ _Chaim sheli_ , you don’t mean that.” His father tries, making a move to get up from his seat before thinking against it and instead, leaning over and placing a gentle hand on his son's knee giving it a small squeeze. “You’re in a very vulnerable state. You’ve been through a traumatic experience and aren’t in the best headspace.”

Cyrus knows his father is right, they’re always right, but because of the strong whirlwind of emotions fighting inside of him, he lashes out. “Exactly! I’ve been in a traumatic experience and you have no idea how I am feeling! None of you do!” He glares at both sets of parents. Their crestfallen faces cause something in him to falter.

Instead of apologizing, he brings the inhaler to his mouth and takes a puff, inhaling deeply before abruptly standing up, swaying a little from side to side, alerting his parents, and making a quick retreat up the stairs into his room, promptly slamming his door shut.

Cyrus ignores the muffled sobbing as he falls face first onto his bed trying to stifle his own emotions as they come pouring out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much once, again! I finally put my outline for this story on paper and noticed that it will take 2 or 3 more chapters to wrap this story up and so I am so sorry for that, it just got out of hand. But thank you so much, if you have any questions feel free to ask them and if I can answer them I will, also, please leave a comment they really motivate me and I really love them, but if you don't kudos are just as nice and if not I hope you're enjoying my story!
> 
> P.S. Next chapter Andi, Buffy, and T.J. will definitely make an appearance and feelings will be talked about!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all liked it and if you want to tell me, comment down below. I am thinking of a second part and bringing in more characters (gotta get that Tyrus in there) so if you would like that comment down below and leave Kudos if you want to. I love those.


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